


Basted Effort

by Djaeka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Can't Cook, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Adrien trying to cook, Crack, Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Identity Reveal, Plagg trying to help, drunk kwami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23997745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djaeka/pseuds/Djaeka
Summary: Adrien really wants to make a beautiful feast for his girlfriend and her parents as a thank you for taking him in. He’s confident that between himself and Plagg, he can make an amazing meal out of the best turkey recipe he’s found on the internet.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Sabine Cheng, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Tom Dupain, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 44
Kudos: 97





	Basted Effort

**Author's Note:**

> With a TON of thanks to CaughtFeelings and Tempomental for the edits and help making Adrien even more of a disaster.
> 
> Delfin, Lucky, and Bryght, this one is definitely for you guys, I love the conversation that spawned this.

“Plagg, you promised you’d _help_. Not float around and drop things on the counter while I’m working.” Adrien glared halfheartedly up at his kwami, regretting the sheer volume of cheese he’d already given to ensure Plagg’s cooperation with tonight’s event.

He hauled the turkey he’d managed to procure onto the Dupain-Cheng’s counter top. He muttered curses under his breath while he did. It had taken a week to actually source the thing, but he’d managed to get a fifty pound turkey from a specialty shop in the city specifically for this meal.

The recipe had been vague with exactly _how_ big the turkey was supposed to be, but given the directive “Get a HUGE turkey” in the comment section he figured this was big enough.

It did weigh more than a toddler though, and he was kind of regretting it now that he had to lift, stuff, and cook the thing.

“Kid, I’m honestly still not sure why you didn’t ask your girlfriend to help with this instead. What are you expecting me to do here?”

Plagg hovered near Adrien’s shoulder, munching on one of the rounds of camembert he’d been bribed with. Something between curiosity and concern ran across his face before Adrien shoved the copy of the recipe in his face.

“I figured you could read the recipe to me, maybe grab ingredients. Not a lot, and if you’d been listening when I explained this before you’d know that.”

“Yeah, you had cheese in my face, I tuned you out.” Plagg grabbed at the stack of papers, flipping pages quickly. “Huh. Okay. I can handle this.”

“I would hope so, you’ve already eaten your bribe.”

“You wouldn’t have had to bribe pigtails.” Acid green eyes peered at Adrien over the top of the recipe, one eyebrow raised.

“No, but then she would have to help with all this and I want to make a nice meal for her and her parents. You don’t pay attention so I don’t expect you to remember, but it’s our five year anniversary and I wanted to thank all of them for welcoming me into their family the way they did.”

Adrien arranged the bowls of salt and pepper on the counter before turning back to the turkey. It was covered in a thick layer of butcher paper and wrapped in several layers of twine. He pulled at the string several times before giving up and grabbing a knife to free the bird.

The paper fluttered open, revealing the most intimidating headless bird Adrien had ever seen.

“Crap, kid, how long is that thing gonna take to cook?”

“I have no idea. That’s why we’re starting so early. What’s the recipe say?” Adrien grimaced as he poked a single finger into the clammy skin of the plucked bird.

“Uhhhh, twelve minutes per pound.”

Adrien blew a breath out, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to settle his nerves. “Okay. Okay, I can handle that, it’s only ten hours. Plenty of time. That way we can get the rest of the meal ready while it’s cooking, right?”

He made a point of not looking up at Plagg, grabbing both the rack and pan so he could settle the turkey into it before starting to actually prepare it. When he eventually looked back up, Plagg simply shrugged before lifting the paper back up to his face so he could read the recipe off.

“Okay, I guess you’re gonna rub the whole thing with salt and pepper then. And give it a friendly pat.”

Nodding, Adrien rolled his sleeves up and grabbed a handful of salt. He began sprinkling it over the top, growing more bold with his movements as he got the hang of the motion. He repeated with the pepper, and grimaced as he shoved his arm elbow deep inside the cavity to rub salt inside the turkey.

He frowned when he felt a paper packet inside the bird. Pulling the packet out, he tugged at a corner of the paper.

Only to yelp in panic as the gizzard, heart, and other organs spilled across the counter into the sink full of dishes that had been left to soak.

“Crap, Plagg, help!”

“No way, you said ingredients. I’m not chasing that thing’s liver.”

Adrien growled, but shoved his hands into the dirty sink water to scoop the spilled bits out and into a nearby bowl. Staring at the soapy pieces in the bowl, he began to gnaw on his lip while trying to figure out what to do next.

_If I wash them it’ll be fine, right? It’s just soapy water._

He plunged the bowl under the water, washing vigorously, before setting them aside with a little more force than necessary and another annoyed glare at Plagg.

“You forgot the friendly pat.”

“Plagg, it hardly seems necessary, they were probably just trying to be cute.”

“That’s what you said about that croissant recipe telling you to poke little divots in the dough and we all remember how that came out.”

With a sigh Adrien reached over and patted the turkey, maintaining begrudging eye contact with his kwami.

“Is it supposed to have handprints?”

Adrien looked down at the turkey. A clear handprint was across the turkey’s right side, devoid of the salt and pepper he’d sprinkled on earlier.

“I mean, probably. Maybe that’s why they said to pat it.”

Plagg shrugged and read the next steps of the recipe while Adrien washed his hands. Adrien nodded along, gathering the ingredients to make the turkey baste once he’d cleaned up sufficiently. He tossed the freshly washed turkey innards into a salted broth, only hesitating slightly when Plagg told him to put “however much salt you feel like”.

Once it was on the stove to simmer, Adrien clapped his hands together. He’d managed to get through the first part of the recipe and it hadn’t gone too badly.

_Maybe this won’t be the total disaster I thought it might be._

“What’s next?” He leaned over the paper a bit, trying to read the next steps upside down and Plagg made a little noise that he couldn’t quite place.

“You’re gonna make a drink of some sort, I guess.”

Adrien’s eyebrows pinched and he tilted his head back to stare at Plagg.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, that’s what it says. Let’s see, egg whites, cream, lemon, gin, you got all this stuff kid?” Plagg floated over the bags of groceries and pulled several of them out, rolling the bottle of cream toward Adrien, who grabbed it before it could roll off the counter.

“I got everything the recipe listed, yes. Except the alcohol, Tom told me I could use any of the stuff they have on hand for baking.”

Plagg nodded, not looking up from the recipe. “Ramos fizz, why’s that sound familiar? Pretty sure I’ve made this thing before.”

“Really?” Adrien perked up a bit.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll make this thing, you go cut up that fruit and put it all in a bowl.” He dropped the recipe before speeding off, leaving Adrien blinking at the unexpected helpfulness.

He began chopping the fruits, smiling up at Plagg when the kwami threw a handful of lemon zest into the bowl.

“Hey, what’s an ‘appropriate amount’ of gin for you, kid?”

Adrien paused for a moment, halfway to pouring a can of pineapple into the bowl of apples and oranges.

“I’m not sure, I don’t really drink liquor.” He dropped his head back down to focus on chopping several handfuls of preserved ginger. “But it doesn’t really matter, Tom and Sabine must be using alcohol-free spirits to bake with.”

Plagg made a short humming noise before Adrien heard several ice cubes clink into the glass he was mixing the drink in. He glanced up to watch Plagg stir the concoction with a spoon twice as large as him and proceeded to shove the glass in Adrien’s direction.

“Does it go in the fruit?” He lifted it to pour into the bowl, stopping when Plagg grabbed his hand.

“No, you drink it.”

Adrien frowned. “Seriously? I thought you were helping with the recipe.”

“I am! The recipe says to drink this thing. I thought you didn’t want to screw this up.”

He sighed, taking a tentative sip from the glass and making a startled noise when it was better than he’d anticipated.

“This is actually really good.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I knew someone who made these a while back. Some bar in the 80’s or something. Add the chestnuts to that fruit, by the way.”

Adrien took a longer drink to appreciate the sweet, cream filled drink before opening the cans of water chestnuts to add to the fruit mixture. He watched Plagg assemble the next set of ingredients, piling bottle after bottle of spices on the counter in no apparent order.

“Okay, take this sheet and put however much it says of each one into a bowl together. And finish your drink, I’m supposed to make you another one.”

Adrien nodded, feeling warm and starting to enjoy how much Plagg seemed to be getting into the spirit of making the recipe. He took several large gulps of his drink before starting in on the spice mixture, finishing it by the time Plagg zipped over to take his glass from him.

He moved onto making the stuffing for the turkey at Plagg’s instruction, mashing butter into ground veal and breadcrumbs enthusiastically.

When Plagg appeared at his elbow with another drink, he obediently downed the one he had nearby before looking in the new glass.

“This one is different.”

His eyes felt a little unfocused, but he squinted at the amber drink and it seemed to help a bit.

“Yeah, it’s called a stinger. I’ve definitely made this one before, the cognac is great with cheese.”

“Oh. Are you having some?” Adrien looked around for something small to put a bit of the drink into, grinning when he saw the lid to the cream Plagg had used in the earlier drinks. He poured some of his drink into the makeshift cup and handed it to his friend.

Plagg’s eyes widened before he grinned back, taking the lid and tapping it against Adrien’s glass. He sipped at the drink while watching Adrien shove large handfuls of the stuffing inside the turkey.

Adrien drank several mouthfuls of the mixed drink after washing his hands and let Plagg turn the oven knob according to the recipe. He finished it while making some sort of paste for the bird just as Plagg shoved another one in his direction. The two of them tapped glasses again with a chuckle and drank in silence until it was time to drag the turkey over to the oven to start cooking.

Adrien wobbled to the counter and shakily hauled the turkey to the open oven door. He tried to slide the pan into the oven before realizing the bird was too big, bumping into the top. He frowned at the bird.

“Plagg, it’s too big.”

Plagg drifted over and draped himself across Adrien’s shoulder upside down. “Huh. Yeah it is.”

“What do I do?” Adrien went to run his hand through his hair, stopping and barely catching the pan as it wobbled and the turkey slid around on the tray.

“Shove it maybe? It’s a normal oven right, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Adrien’s frown deepened at the unspoken _I don’t think that’s correct,_ but he balanced the tray with his forearm and shoved as hard as he could. Plagg pushed ineffectually along with him and Adrien smiled crookedly at the attempt. The turkey scraped along the top of the oven, but slid into place and Adrien slammed the door closed in triumph. He breathed heavily for a moment while braced on the counter before asking Plagg how long it had to be in there.

“Uhhhh, till brown. But hey, it says to drink something until then! And this martini thing has blue cheese stuffed olives in it!”

Seeing how Plagg’s eyes lit up, Adrien nodded excitedly and watched Plagg mix the new drink. He pretended not to notice when Plagg jammed an entire olive in his mouth while making the drink.

Two, _three?,_ drinks later, they agreed that the bird was finally brown enough to smear the paste all over, jam fruit in the bottom of the tray, and shove the whole thing back in the oven. Adrien giggled loudly when Plagg accidentally dipped his tail in the paste, at least until Plagg managed to flick it directly into Adrien’s hair and he made a futile attempt to launch several chunks of blue cheese at the kwami.

He was pretty sure a couple of the bottles of spices ended up on the floor but he ignored them in favor of throwing a couple more pieces of cheese and fruit in Plagg’s direction. Plagg returned fire, but Adrien laughed when the kwami was no more accurate than him.

“Okay, okay, so you need cider in that stuff on the stove, and now you have to pour it over the turkey.”

Adrien squinted at the papers strewn across the entire counter.

“How many times?”

“What do you mean, how many times, just pour it over the turkey,” Plagg slurred back at him, also squinting down at the paper and blinking rapidly.

Adrien emptied the bottle of cider into the basting liquid, slid the turkey out of the oven, and poured the entire pot over the bird before tilting his head to the side.

“Hey. Hey, Plagg. Was I supposed to leave the pieces in that liquid?” He looked up to find Plagg had flipped upside down on the counter to watch him while his tongue poked out of his mouth between his teeth.

“Yeah, I dunno, probably. You just leave it in there now and keep drinking stuff.”

Adrien nodded sagely, missing the chair he’d gone to sit in entirely and ending up on the floor. Plagg’s cackling followed him the whole way down and he groaned as he rubbed his backside. He crawled up onto the chair, accepting the new drink Plagg pushed in his direction, and settled in to wait for the turkey to cook.

Marinette was going to be so proud.

* * *

“Marinette, it’s going to be okay, really!”

“Tikki, I just really want this to be _perfect._ Adrien is cooking a whole meal for us and all he asked me to do was the dessert. I want to get it right.”

Tikki floated down in front of Marinette’s face, giving her nose an affectionate little squeeze. “He’s going to love it no matter what.”

Marinette smiled at the little red kwami, holding her hands out so she could press a kiss to Tikki’s head.

“Thanks, Tikki. Do you think he’ll like the strawberry creme? I wanted to go with passionfruit for the cake base but it just seemed like too much.”

Tikki flitted over the cake, doing a little flip before speaking.

“I think it’s perfect. Decorating with passionfruit pulp seems much more special than using the packaged paste for the cake layer.”

“Okay. Okay.” Marinette tried breathing deeply to stem the panic that threatened to kick in as she realized one of the piped chocolate decorations were off center.

“Tikki! The chocolate thing isn’t right and I need to start over, do you think I have time to temper a new batch of chocolate right now? Oh no, I really don’t it would take at least an hour, Tikki what am I going to do-“

Tikki sped in front of Marinette’s face, glaring sternly. Marinette tried to grin but it came out more of a pained grimace.

“Marinette. It’s perfect. Relax.”

“But it’s our anniversary Tikki, and if it’s _not_ perfect-“

“Then Adrien will still love you. He’s not going to leave over a _cake,_ Marinette, we’ve been over this.”

Marinette nodded, muttering to herself and pacing the pastry kitchen. She looked up toward the door when Tikki flew into her pocket, noticing her parents entering.

Her mother kissed her cheek before commenting on the chocolate decorations and Marinette’s shoulders relaxed instantly.

“Well, shall we see what your boyfriend has prepared for us?” Sabine teased with an amused little smile on her lips. Marinette smothered her face in her hands and allowed her father to pull them away from her face to place the cake in her palms.

They walked up the stairs to their apartment together, and Marinette’s mood improved with each compliment from her parents on the cake she’d made for the occasion. They stopped a couple of steps short of the landing.

“Is that smoke coming out from under the door?” Tom stepped forward to open the door, and Marinette pressed in behind him to peer into the apartment.

And stopped dead at the sight of the oven churning out thick black smoke. She gripped the cake circle more firmly while she evaluated the room frantically.

The oven door was open, a massive turkey that was black on the top and pink on the bottom shoved haphazardly into the cavity. A steady fat drip from the turkey was spilling out of the corner of the pan that had worked fine _yesterday_ , but now had a large charred looking hole in it.

The liquid was spilling out of the oven and onto the hardwood floor that her parents had swapped their tile out for three months ago. Somehow both the turkey and the fat pool on the floor were actively on _fire_ and causing the majority of the smoke that was filling the room.

Empty liquor bottles were strewn across the counter along with rough smears of blue cheese, and what looked like a supermarket spice aisle was scattered across the floor.

She was proud of herself for not dropping the cake.

Until she noticed Adrien and Plagg laying across the counter and nearby chair, completely and sloppily drunk and occasionally throwing chunks of food at one another.

Her grip relaxed _ever so slightly_ as she realized there was a kwami in her parents’ kitchen in full view. She moved to correct the slip as quickly as she realized it. It wobbled before righting itself and she breathed a sigh of relief before watching as the icing she’d used to fix it to the cardboard circle lost the grip it had on the cake.

As if watching in slow motion, the cake slid off the tray, leaving a trail of frosting along the mint green circle. It hit the ground at an angle that somehow caused the cake to burst out from inside the thick frosting layer, splattering the sides of the door.

Chunks of frosting flew into the pool of grease on the floor, floating like tiny boats across the flaming liquid and bumping into the stove.

And the lovingly placed passionfruit pulp managed to fling itself directly into Adrien’s face from where it was hanging over the edge of the counter. He screeched incoherently before launching himself to his feet and staring in abject horror at the scene in front of him.

A panicked _“Akuma!”_ left his lips and before Marinette could react, Adrien flopped to the floor. Face deathly serious, he army crawled behind the tall chair Plagg was sitting on and dramatically called Plagg into his ring. He wobbled upright and made a beeline for Marinette.

“Princess!” He leaned forward and for a moment Marinette was sure he was going to fall on her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his face growing closer until his forehead met hers.

“I need to get you to safety. I’m-“ He paused, looking like he was swallowing frantically. “I’m gonna carry you to your room. Stay there until it’s safe and the akuma is gone, okay?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she threw a panicked look at her parents, who seemed to be frozen in shock. She had a moment to spin back around before she’d been hauled over a leather-clad shoulder and her boyfriend was stumbling up the stairs in a way that made her feel like _she_ might need to throw up soon.

She found herself lying on her chaise with Chat making overly serious faces at her and telling her to stay put before he shut the door on her. Marinette sat with her mouth open until Tikki poked her in the side and she sprang up to run back down the stairs.

Chat was trying to blow the fire out that ringed the turkey while simultaneously encouraging her parents to leave the apartment “for their safety”. He’d cupped his hands around his mouth and was puffing wildly in an attempt to get the thing to stop burning.

Somehow it seemed to make things _worse_ because it flared up in his face and Marinette could smell the distinctly acrid fragrance of burning hair.

Chat jumped back, calling cataclysm and pressing his hand to the oven as her parents finally seemed to process what was happening and ran forward yelling for him to stop. He stood up, leaned on the counter, and pulled a smug face while grabbing his baton from behind his back and twirling it.

Marinette reached the kitchen landing again just as he lost control of the baton, sending it into the dining room table and smashing the flower vase in the center to the floor.

She could hear the muttered “oops” before he began assuring her parents that he’d pay for a new vase if Ladybug’s Miraculous Cure didn’t fix everything for them. Marinette tried to make something, _anything_ , come out of her mouth, but she didn’t seem capable of sound any longer.

Her mother didn’t quite seem to have the same problem. She at least managed a stunned look at Marinette and a single sentence.

“What in the _world_ is happening?”

Marinette held her hands out, eyes wide and shaking her head. The movement drew Chat’s attention back to her and he wobbled back upright and beamed at Marinette. He frowned a moment later and looked like he was going to scold her for leaving the safety of her room, before panic crossed his face and he raced for the bathroom, leaving Marinette alone with her parents and their smoldering kitchen.

Tom’s mouth opened and closed. He looked back and forth between his wife and daughter and the actively burning kitchen. Eventually he silently grabbed the fire extinguisher and smothered the remaining fires floating on the grease pool.

Tom set the extinguisher down, leaned on the counter, and blinked at Marinette and Sabine.

“Thinking we might need to have a talk about what just happened.”

Marinette cringed, but the speed with with her father’s face was ricocheting from furious to wildly confused told her this was going to be worse if she stalled.

The sound of retching emanated from the bathroom loud enough for everyone in the building to cringe.

“I’m thinking pizza instead of _anything_ he just touched.”


End file.
